


Special

by notcrindy



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, because i say so i guess, hi this is an AU where Duck meets Minerva when he is a little Duckling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrindy/pseuds/notcrindy
Summary: Duck Newton is supposed to be special.A Blue Fairy tells him so.(An AU where even a duckling is destined.)





	Special

His name was Duck Newton, and he was supposed to be special.

Mostly it was a lot of other people that seemed to think so. No one in his family, of course; his mother always reminded him not to make a scene, and his father was always adamant that nothing about him was different or interesting at all. They had his new baby sister to think about, too, so it wasn’t as though anyone could pay him much mind ‘round the Newton house. He was okay with it, being mostly unassuming, except that other people thought the way he came into the world ‘fore he was supposed to was mighty interesting. They thought it was special the way he said nothin’ ‘til he spoke a full sentence; they thought it was unique the way he got such high grades all the time without even tryin’.

And even more’n that, there was Mr. Rogers.

Mr. Rogers was on the only television program he got to watch, and the only reason he got to watch it was that Mrs. Thompson let him at her house. It was different from all the things his ma ‘n’ pa ever said was on the television; Ma said it planted indecent ideas in the heads of youngsters ‘n’ Pa said it was all fiddle-faddle, but the man on TV with the differently colored cardigans and piano had a slow and gentle way of doing things. He was always careful not to let his parents know about it, though, not because Mr. Rogers was anything awful as a person but because there was a lesson he learned every time he watched.

This was how Duck knew for  _ sure _ he was supposed to be special. Every time he caught a glimpse of the man on the television box, he was singing about it or he was saying so. Sometimes he sang about it, so soft and slow; other times he said it clear as day, seeming to the little boy to look  _ directly _ at him as he said so. He had trouble believing the other adults around him, but Mr. Rogers knew so much about  _ everything, _ there was just no way he could ever be wrong. He carried it quietly and softly, the way the man on TV would want him to, and he didn’t brag about it or nothin’. He just knew deep down, the way you know your name or your favorite color or what you like to eat, that he was special from then on.

It made it easier when the Blue Fairy showed up.

She wasn’t  _ really _ the Blue Fairy, Duck knew. The Blue Fairy was from a story, make-believe like the world the Trolley went to, and Pinocchio wasn’t a real boy after all. Mrs. Thompson let him watch  _ that _ one too with her once when it was on the television, and he made sure to know it was made up as anything. But still, that was what he thought to call her, so for now that’s what she was.

He’d been roused from slumber when she first appeared, just on the end of his bed. The little boy rubbed the sand from his eyes and sat up a little, not sure whether or not he was dreaming and kinda bettin’ he was just ‘cuz it was the only thing he could think at the time. She was blue in a way that shone all outwards; she was… ...different, like a person  _ made _ of blue, not the blue of the sky but something else for which he had no reference (later, as an older boy, he might think she reminded him of the blue of a computer screen). She didn’t have eyes, like a person had eyes, or any real features except a smile so big it  _ had _ to be infectious. She was stretched out like a person wasn’t stretched out, like someone only had a vague idea of what people were and then cut them out of blue cloth.

She was a little girl just like him, but she spoke older. And weirder. Like she was learning the words, and she said, “Duck  _ New _ -ton?”

And he said, “Yes, that’s me.”

“So I have the right place,” she said, all smiles.

“I guess,” he admitted, yawning a little. “‘re you a dream?”

He watched as she shook her head back and forth, leaving little trails of blue, little afterthoughts in his head and eyes before they faded away, like the colors that happened when he closed his eyes real tight or looked at a light too long. “Oh, no, Duck New-ton,” said this small, small voice, “I assure you I am  _ very much _ real! You are  _ not _ asleep at all.”

Duck took a moment to turn over the fact of this in his head. “Then, if I’m not asleep,” he reasoned, “then you’re make-believe. Like King Friday.”

When she laughed, it was like a little girl might in his class. “What? I do not understand these things,” she giggled. “Not yet. Maybe someday soon I will. But I’m not make-believe either.”

Duck tilted his head to the side. “ _ Really? _ ”

“Really,” she confirmed, and he decided she had no reason to lie. “I could call  _ you _ these things too, you know. From my side  _ you _ seem, as you put it, make-believe.”

Duck raised an eyebrow. “Nu- _ uh. _ ”

“Yes,” she told him patiently. “But they said you weren’t.”

“Oh,” he accepted at face value. “Who are they?”

“I’m not allowed to say.”

“Okay. Why are you here talking to me?”

“That is what I am  _ meant _ to do. Just like  _ you _ are meant to talk back.”

“Okay.” He decided not to think about it. “What’s your name?”

“Oh,  _ oh, _ ” she blurted out suddenly as if too excited, getting a little too close to his face on the bed, and he nearly fell off. She seemed so  _ happy _ to talk to him, and it was weird, since it was so late and he was so tired and this was so  _ strange, _ really. “Oh, I’m Minerva! Hello, Duck, I am sorry! I forgot to say that first. How silly.”

“It’s okay,” Duck reassured her. It had been a long night for everybody, after all. “Don’t worry. That’s a weird name, though.”

“Weirder than Duck?”

“‘S not my  _ real _ name,” he murmured. “Mom doesn’t like it.”

“Hm,” the blue girl decided. “Well, then I guess mine  _ is _ weird!”

“It is,” he insisted. “Can I call you something else instead?”

“Like what?”

That was when he came up with the Blue Fairy, and  _ boy howdy _ did she like it. Her smile grew  _ even wider _ then, when he told her the tale of Pinocchio and how he was made a real boy, and it scarcely seemed to leave her face after that for anything. She was so  _ glad _ about it, she told him that yes, he could call her that whenever he wanted to. “But I am not here to make you real,” she remembered, gasping. “No, Duck New-ton, you are real as ever! That’s what they told me. I’m here for something  _ else. _ ”

“What’re you here for?” His eyes were wide.

“I have a  _ message _ for you,” she let him know. “It’s  _ very important. _ ”

“I won’t forget,” he promised her, and he knew it was true.

“You are  _ special, _ Duck Newton,” she finally declared, as though it were some big news. “You are  _ so special, _ your  _ destiny _ is of the utmost--”

He nearly laughed himself. “Is that  _ all? _ ”

“...Yes?”

“Well, um, thank you, Blue Fairy,” he managed, because that was only polite, after all, “but I already  _ knew _ that.”

She didn’t have a face, but somehow she looked surprised. “You did? Who told you?”

“Mr. Rogers. He tells me all the time.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Well, now I don’t know what to do.”

It was the first time the young boy had ever seen his blue companion look so distressed, and he didn’t particularly like it. Right then and there, he decided to figure out what was making her so upset, especially about something as great as what was on the television. “Why’s that?”

She wrung hands that weren’t really there. “My first meeting with you,” she admitted to him, “was supposed to be of  _ great importance. _ Now it seems as though what I have to say, someone else has already said! Perhaps my role isn’t as significant as I thought.”

Duck gave this a moment of quiet contemplation, as many of the adults in his life would have him do. “Well, I don’t know what that means,” he finally confessed, “but that’s just ‘cuz you talk like a grownup sorta. But I do know somethin’, and that’s that  _ you’re _ special, too. I ain’t  _ ever _ seen a girl like you before in my whole life.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he encouraged her, nodding vigorously. “Yeah, it sure as heck  _ is. _ Mr. Rogers would say  _ you’re _ special too, y’know. Same as he always says to me!”

“This ‘Mr. Rogers’ seems to hold  _ much _ cultural significance.”

“You  _ bet, _ ” Duck let her know, even as he wasn’t sure what it meant.

“So if he says I am special, it must be so?”

“ _ ‘Xactly. _ Maybe if you come with me to Mrs. Thompson’s house, you can see him.”

“Oh! We can  _ meet him? _ ”

“Sure.” Duck blinked. Just how out of touch  _ was _ this fairy? “Why, he’s on all the time on the television.”

“On the television,” she repeated. “Well, Duck New-ton, while I would love so much to stay and see ‘Mr. Rogers’ for myself, my visits must be short. I have said what I have to say, today, and it seems that someone has already said it for me, so I will be on my way. But perhaps the next time, you can show me some!”

“Just be careful,” he cautioned. “I dunno if my parents would like that I know a blue fairy. Or Mrs. Thompson, actually…”

What a mess.

“Don’t worry, Duck Newton,” she soothed him. “No one can see me but you. And though my message today had already been spoken, I feel relief for it. I’m glad that someone is letting you know just how special you are.”

There was a moment of silence, where he grinned just a little at her and she smiled too wide back, so wide it maybe even hurt her face. When he spoke again, it was after a moment of very careful and considerate thought, because he wanted to say it before she left. “Why doesn’t anyone let  _ you _ know, Blue Fairy?”

She looked in his direction and radiated a warmth, a kindness, a big ol’ smile on a not-really face. “Do not worry. Today, someone has.”

As Duck drifted back into sleep and she faded away, he thought maybe he made  _ her _ real instead.

It was a nice thought.

**Author's Note:**

> well, this didn't come out the way i wanted it to, but do things ever??? um, hopefully it's... decent. i do think there will be more of it probably. inspired very much by Mr. Rogers and how much i love him. <3 thanks for reading! i love you all.


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